


Snippets of Reality

by Tsubasa504



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce not being overly happy about misuse of data, Gen, Tony trying to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsubasa504/pseuds/Tsubasa504
Summary: "I hope those are yours." His voice comes out colder than he means to, but he can't help it. He had always been rather possessive over personal data and the unauthorized use of it by a third party. And he feels worse when he finds out just what is contained in that data and of whom.
Kudos: 2





	Snippets of Reality

There is a comfortable hum from within the lab. A sort of soft machinery hum that lulls Bruce into an almost hypnotic trance when he works within it. The sort of sound he even seeks out on days like these: when sleep eludes him, and it’s as if the Hulk is smashing his way through the barriers right out into the open.

Today is no different. It’s late. Far too late. He had considered looking over at the clock when he woke up gasping for breath and clutching at his head, nails biting in and tearing soft red lines into his hair bottom, but he knew what it would say. The darkness outside an indicator enough that sunrise was still far off.

From a corner station in the lab a green light blinks on and off, throwing the room into eerie shades. It’s dark but familiar. Bruce makes his way across the room with ease. By this point in time, the labs in Avenger’s Tower had long since become home to him. His little place of peace in an otherwise chaotic world.

His unnaturally sensitive eyes pick out the contour of sharp edges with ease and makes his way around them, steps not faltering. Feeling not quite as human as he wishes he could.

By the next door, he stops, letting the doors silently glide open while he remains fast by the threshold. Taking in the bright holographic screens that stand proudly on display one after the other. Their lit screens displaying text upon text, which only now and then is broken by large graphs and figures. He blinks upon the sight of it all. Too tired to fully grasp what he is seeing. His head rolls slightly as he moves his gaze to the dark shadowy form that sits hunched over one of the desks.

“Tony,” he says quietly.

The man doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even stir in his chair.

Bruce tilts his head. Curious. Eyes fast on one of the screens. It contains figures of something he is intimately familiar with.

His stomach churns upon seeing it.

Dark eyes take in the image of repeating sequences with an intensity he rarely gives anything now a days. He knows what these lines mean. Had studied them in depth at one point in time. Now he’s not sure what to feel seeing them again.

Bothered?

Scared?

*I hope those are yours.” His voice comes out colder than he means to, but he can’t help it. He had always been rather possessive over personal data and the unauthorized use of it by a third party. It strikes at something deep within him.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he shrugs his shoulders and lowers his head. “Honestly, I hope this is a dream and that I didn’t just walk in on you doing something illegal.”

“You’ve caught me doing more illegal things than just this,” the man answers, dragging himself upright and swirling his chair around. He’s backlit by the holographic screens and through those Bruce can make out equally tired eyes as his own. It was clear the man had been up a long time.

“Whose?” he grumbles and decides to make his way forward, scanning the screens to try and guess. But this sort of data can’t be understood without a reading frame. Not even he, a so-called genius, can decipher it without help from another source.

Tony grumbles at the question but relents an answer. “Rogers.”

“I hope you told him what it was going to be used for.”

The man shrugs and rotates back to face the screens. Bruce follows his gaze and takes in the long sequence of four letters lined up one after the other. “Not like he would understand. ‘s not really Capsicle’s time’s science. It would certainly not be something they had back in the 40s.”

“Even so, it’s courteous to tell people. You’re overstepping your boundaries here, Tony,” Bruce says. But he’s intrigued. A part of him has always wondered, wondered just what the long-lived captain’s DNA would look like.

Tony does like he always does and ignores him. “I figured you’d know what this was. I’d assumed you’d researched quite a lot when the Big Guy came out. Searched for a cure within yourself.” Bruce grinds his teeth lightly. A part of him can’t stand being told the truth so flippantly. He had spent years searching through his own DNA, trying to find anything that could give him an out. A way to know that this wasn’t all it was going to be. “Did it give you the results you were hoping for?”

The table Bruce leans against feels harsh and biting against his hip and he pushes his fingers hard into the bridge of his nose. “Not what I wanted. It just told me what I already knew.”

It gains Tony’s attention and suddenly Bruce feels caught—feels like a deer in the headlights. “Was it similar?”

“I can’t tell you that without pulling them up to compare the results.”

Grunting, Tony types away and a new set of results pop up next to the others. “These are mine. The data is taken from over the last year.”

They were close, but it was easy to distinguish the difference between them. Maybe it was a similar difference to how it would be with Bruce’s, but the data is too complicating, he needs more. Even so, he leans forward to study the compiled data, far too intrigued for his own good. “You’re human. Of course, there will be differences in the results.” He smiles to himself as he reads the lines at the end. “You’re surprisingly healthy.”

Tony laughs with him, a sharp tug on thin lips and light eyes sparkling in the light of the holograms. “Yeah, you bet you I am. Not planning on kicking any buckets anytime soon.” He falls silent, shoulders tensing. “So…?”

The images don’t lie. “You’re certainly aging.”

Snarling the man turns back towards him. “Not me!”

“Look, Tony, using telomeres to measure longevity isn’t a 100 percent certain. There is still a chance it’s just slow.” Bruce doesn’t really believe himself. It’s been decades since the accident. Decades of living as two halves and never quite whole enough to deal with reality.

“And as your view as a scientist? Do you truly think things will change in another decade or so?”

No, he didn’t. Those words stick in his mouth and even as he opens to answer only a silent breath of air is expelled.

“There’s a chance.”

The data disappears and for a moment it’s as if all in the room is empty. Even the usually soothing hums of machinery seem gone. Tony is typing away furiously. A hint of desperation in his movement. Then, another dataset pops up, or was it the same as before? Bruce blinks at it long and hard.

“Tell me there is a chance, Bruce,” the man demands. His voice cracks and Bruce can just make out the faint tremor of his hands. “You tell me that there is a chance…, and I’ll believe you.”

This time he can’t say the lie either; just stands there still, gazing sadly at the data before him. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

The bang of fists against wood causes him to flinch, to wheeze in air between his clenched teeth and stare, wide-eyed and uncertain at the enraged man.

No, not enraged. Sad, maybe. Desperate?

“That’s not Rogers’ data, is it?”

Tony shakes before him. Collapsing down into his chair once all the rage and fear leaves him. “Jesus, he’s just a kid.”

The words shoot straight through him. Bruce understands what’s going on. Feels sick with it and wishes he could crawl back into bed and let this nightmare of a night be over.

“Just a kid,” Tony whispers again, clearly stuck.

“Does he know?” he wonders. It had been a long time now since he had found out himself. He hadn’t dealt with it very well. Hulked out and destroyed the small place he had lived in and scared the few friend’s that remained away.

“No, not yet.” Tony’s hesitant. No longer full of confidence. “I wanted to be certain. He was so alike to Rogers that I had to check. Had to check for him. He doesn’t even know I took some of his DNA.”

It’s not something Bruce would ever be willing to do. Taking someone’s DNA and sequencing it for their own use and curiosity still sat wrong with him, but he could forgive Tony for this. It was better they found out first. Too much had happened to the kid and Bruce would never wish him to find out on his own. Things like this was best overcome with support.

At least the kid would know he wasn’t alone. Not like Bruce had felt the first time. And the Captain as well. The man had probably already realized it himself, even without the need to scientifically prove it.

“Has there been any changes since then?”

Bruce shakes himself out from his own thoughts. “What?”

“Since the day you became the Hulk, the big green guy, has there been any changes? Have you…” the man stops himself clearly steeling himself in preparation for something. “Have you aged?”

Has he aged? Bruce doesn’t even know himself. But it was still the same face that stared out at him from the mirror every day. Still the same him. But it was difficult to tell. Not enough years had passed yet. Maybe another 10 and he would be a more certain about his answer.

“Don’t answer that. We’ve known each other how long now? 8 years?” Tony says, some part of his normal sarcastic self coming out. “You might lose and gain weight, but I can promise you that you’re still the same you as 8 years ago, and that means your still the same you as almost 20 years ago when you become—” The man grumbles and waves his hand over him.

“I could just have good genes,” he tries. It’s clear Tony thinks its bullshit. A part of him thinks so too.

“The Capsicle certainly hasn’t aged,” Tony continues, back on topic and somber again. “Whatever my dad turned him into using the serum, he remains that even now. At least he looks like an adult, but—Jesus.”

Bruce understands. Feels a little like reality was fucking with them. “But Peter will remain a kid.” It’s irrefutable. Whatever messed with the kid and turned him into a spider, made him out to be just like the Captain, and just like Bruce.

Silence is unbearable after a certain time. Bruce feels like it eats at him from the inside out and gives in to his urge to sooth Tony, placing his hand upon one rigid shoulder. Gathering a little more strength when the man doesn’t pull away from him. “Maybe there is still—”

“Don’t!” Tony growls and jerks out of his hold. “Just don’t. There is no conclusive evidence for that kind of belief.”

He wants to lean over and shake Tony. To tell him its not all that bad. But he’s not that kind of person, so he withdraws away and finds a fascinating spot on the other side of the room to stare at. “We’ve only started to grasp the human genome. We’re leagues away from fully understanding it. There is still hope in the future.”

“Hope?” Tony laughs, low and cruel. Insulting. “The kids fourteen. And he’ll remain fourteen until whatever hope your hoping for comes around the corner. How am I even supposed to break these sorts of news to him? Maybe over breakfast I’ll tell him ‘better get used to your mirror image, you’re gonna be seeing it for a while’.”

The sarcasm was unnecessary. “At least he will know he’s not alone.”

Tony is blinking up at him, dumbfounded.

Bruce feels almost satisfied by that, but then he realizes they’re talking about a kid’s fate and it leaves him feeling hollow again. “He won’t be alone. He’ll have me and the Captain, and maybe some more. Thor?”

“But not me,” Tony says. The words echo in Bruce’s ears.

“You seem to have longevity in your genes,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.

“Even longevity sometimes doesn’t last long enough.”

The humming in the lab feels uncomfortable. There is no feeling of home. No feeling of safety and peace. Just more chaos. The world ticking by around him and reminding him of how fucked-up certain parts are.

He shrugs and smiles sadly over at Tony, taking in the equally tired eyes. “There is still hope for the future.”


End file.
